Sentinel
by Jetmoon
Summary: Then there was one.


Dark waves slipped up the beach, silent in the dusk. Curling tendrils twisted forward, softly washing away a single line of footprints that wound like a snake across the pale sands.

The sun was oozing towards the horizon, dripping gold as it descended towards its death in theblue waters. A single woman sat on the beach, brown hair flicking softly in the wind. The soft caress of the wind drifted across numb skin, its tender touch lost. Her eyes, once so haunted, were dead. Empty hollows that stretched away into nothing.

Staring across the endless desert of blue, the woman wondered whether she should eat. Her stomach was empty, but the feeling was lost.

She did not feel hungry, despite the fact she had not eaten for days.

The shirt that drifted around her thin form sunk limply to the sands as the wind perished. Kate stood, absently dusting the grains of dust from her clothing. She looked up at the sky, at the most beautiful sunset imaginable. And saw nothing.

She walked towards the burnt skeleton of the plane, bare feet sinking into the sand. Fragrent aromas drifted from Suns garden. The flowers had not yet had the life strangled from them by the weeds. Sun and Jin were gone, buried beneath a landslide that had engulfed half of the survivors.

The remainder had gone to the tomb, to mourn and weep. Kate had wasted away by those rocks. Sawyer had pulled her away, saying that Jack would not want her to die for his memory.

Sawyer. Gone. One little cut from a boar tusk had poisoned his body, snatching him away just when she had begun to love...

The jungle rustled, and the unearthly metallic screech of the thing that lurked within echoed across the tops of the jungle. Kate turned, staring blankly at the dark swaying trees. The sounds died away, fading with the light.

The thing had taken them. Harriet, Shannon, Marcus, Luke...she could rattle off their names in her sleep. She often did, dreaming of their faces, twisted bodies, gaping mouths stretched wide with terror...

Kate began the fire. She and Boone had done it, before he had been swept away by the monstrous tide. No-one had mourned. Everyone was too tired, waiting for the beautiful island to devour them, bury their souls within the darkness of oblivion.

The fire crackled, red blossoms swaying elegantly in the dusk wind. She had sat here with the other four. The last. Sayid, Alora, Charlie, Claire. She had watched as Alora collapsed, dying of some jungle disease that devoured her from the inside. Of Sayid sickening, then disappearing to die alone...

She had laughed then, as the tears had streamed down her face. Laughed at the sheer insanity of it all, her friends falling dead around her. At the two score graves that littered the island.

It was dark now. The fire spluttered, searching vainly for more fuel to devour. The wind tickled the tops of the trees, the gentle rustling echoing in the empty.

It had been dark when Claire had been ensnarled. She had screamed, bringing Charlie and Kate running. Charlie had shouted and plunged into the forest after her, his friend, his love. Metallic screams had echoed, hollow in her ears.

Kate chased after them. Sounds had died away, leaving the jungle silent. She had called, crashing through the underbrush for days looking for them, terrified. Charlies' mangled corpse had fallen before her, and she had run for the beach, tears of despair glistening on chalk white cheeks.

At the beach again. Alone.

How long had she been alone? No one could answer that.

The embers died, flickering hearts glowing no more. In darkness she was still, made of stone. The chill wrapped cold fingers around her arms, across her cheeks, whispering through her hair. The statue did not move, frozen. The moon rose, and flesh and blood turned white as bone.

* * *

The morning was as beautiful as the first God ever painted, glowing wih every colour His palette could give. A small fly buzzed across a cold form, landing curiously on a closed eyelid. Not a flicker, no distant beat, no blood roaring beneath silk skin. Nothing.

High above, there was a distant rumble as a small plane buzzed overhead, engines rumbling. Far below lay the sprawled body of a lone woman, the last. The fly danced across her thin form.


End file.
